


Intrusion

by lovedsammy



Series: War Of Hearts [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Episode: s08e05 The Big Scary U, Kinda, M/M, Mentor/Protégé, Negan needs his own warning, Sexual Tension, a tiny bit more than the last one so, twisted father/son dynamic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 06:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13140954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovedsammy/pseuds/lovedsammy
Summary: Part 2 of the 'War Of Hearts' series. After escaping the walker herd with their lives intact, Carl and Negan have their talk. Lines are drawn and mingled together, and the repercussions are worse than Carl ever thought possible.





	Intrusion

**Author's Note:**

> This took forever to complete, and I'm very sorry about that. The depression from the MSF has kept me from writing as much lately, but hopefully the next part won't take as long. It will deal more with Rick's side of things a little but don't worry, there will still be more Carl/Negan goodness, especially in upcoming chapters. I don't think I'm going to have this veer off into any sexual territory, at least not for a long while. I love all aspects of the Cegan dynamic, and I do ship it sexually but only to an extent. If I choose to do so, it won't happen until much later on, but I'm at least setting a foundation for it if it goes in that direction. Otherwise, I'm just happy writing a father/son, mentor/protege dynamic with borderline sexual tension, because it's just fun, lol. 
> 
> Merry Christmas!

The Sanctuary is in complete chaos when he and Negan ascend the stairwell leading to the board room. The workers and families are crowding the hallways, yelling and terrified, seeking some sort of comfort without knowing who can provide it. There are miscellaneous shouts of “we need water!” and “where’s Negan?!” and all manner of between. Several gunshots ring out, followed by screams and what sounds like a female voice shouting, “ _I_  am Negan!”

Carl is more curious than he should be at what is happening. And he’s even _more_ interested in seeing how Negan handles the situation, how he can turn it all around. As if sensing his thoughts, Negan taps the teenager’s shoulder, and Carl looks over to find the man grinning at him. “Watch _this_ shit, kid.”

The older man starts to hum a long, drawn-out whistle and the hallway goes silent at once. Most of the people sink immediately to their knees, while others seem take a moment to process their leader’s return and then follow suit. Carl spots Negan’s lieutenants, including Simon and Dwight and a couple of others he doesn’t recognize. He further skims the crowd and meets Eugene’s deer in the headlights expression with a cold stare of his own. He couldn’t just forget the coward’s betrayal, how he’d so easily stabbed him and his family in the back in favor of the madman who’d bludgeoned his friends to death. Carl hadn’t exactly known Abraham very well or for very long, but he knew enough to know that Abe would be ashamed of Eugene.

Negan gives a long-suffering sigh, and Carl’s attention drifts back to him. The boy hated to admit it, but the respect Negan commanded was mesmerizing. Even if it was through fear, the way he got people to submit to him entranced the teenager. It sent an unbidden little thrill of envy through him, that Negan could inspire people to respond to him in such a way, could get them to fall to their knees without a hitch.  

“Ah, Regina,” Negan addresses the woman with the gun, the one who Carl now realizes is the one who’d been yelling and had shot one of the workers now lying motionless on the ground. “Now _why’d_ you have to go and do that?”

The Savior Leader observes the situation, looking over all of the people still on their knees in the hall. “I am guessing’ that a lot of you fine folks thought I was dead. Chewed up, never to be crapped out again. Well, here’s a little refresher on who the hell I am. I wear a leather jacket, I have Lucille, and my nutsack is made of steel. I am not dyin’ until I am _damn_ good and ready. Now, if ya’ll will excuse me, I am in deep need of a sandwich, a shower, and some of that wilting Lian orchid deep tissue shit that Frankie learned in San Francisco. Hell, I might do it all at once. And after that, I have some serious business to attend to. Like talking to my _right-hand_ man.”

He gestures at Simon with Lucille, and Carl thinks he glimpses something like borderline resentment in Simon’s eyes. Intrigued, the boy files that little piece of information away for later. Was there bad blood brewing between Negan and his right hand? Did that mean there were other potential problems, too, that there were others starting to have doubt in Negan’s ability to rule? “You see, we gotta figure out how _all_ this coulda happened like it happened. And then. Well, _then_ we’re gonna get back to doing what we have always done. We will _save_ people.”

There’s a collective breath that the entire hall seems to take at once, and one of the workers collapses to the floor in relief with her arms outstretched toward the man like he was the fucking Messiah or something. “ _Thank you_ , Negan! Thank _God_ for you!”

Carl’s stunned gaze goes back to Negan, who raises his eyebrows at him. “See? What did I tell ya? _Respect_ .” His dark eyes appraise Carl again, and he shakes his head bemusedly. “But still not from _you_ , huh? Damn, kid, what the _hell_ do I gotta do to get you on your _knees_ for me?”

The comment feels purposefully lewd, just like when Negan had offered him a taste of the spaghetti sauce back in Alexandria. Flushing a bit, Carl scoffs, rolling his one good eye at him. It’d be a fine day in hell when he’d kneel for Negan. Somehow, though, he gets the feeling that Negan is okay with that. After all, Carl is sure that the man could make him kneel if he’d wanted to. Not that the teenager would ever make it easy for him. This little game that was continuously being played between them was one Carl was beginning to think neither had a chance to win. A zero-sum game. Even still, he’d play it as hard as he could if it meant there was a chance that he’d come out victorious in the end.  

Suddenly, Carl becomes aware that Simon is crowding into his personal space and wrapped a vice-like hand around his throat. The boy is shoved up against the wall faster than he can comprehend it, his hands flying immediately to the bigger one squeezing his windpipe.

“You little bastard,” Simon snarls at him, choking him hard enough that Carl accidentally lets out a terrified squeak. “Who the hell do you think you are, huh? When Negan tells you to do something, you _do_ it! Now you get on your damn knees or I will carve your other fucking eye out!”

His fingers are trying and failing to pry the man’s hand off of his neck, and he’s trying to breathe, to say something, anything, but he can’t, and his vision has started to fade. He feels something similar to a band clamping around his head as he fights against the urge to pass out.

After what feels like an eternity later but couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, Simon has been pulled off of him and Carl is on the floor grasping his burning throat and coughing. He hears yelling over the ringing in his ears, and slowly raises his head again to see Negan standing over Simon with Lucille raised high in the air. His expression is absolutely thunderous.

“You’re on _real_ fucking thin ice now, you stupid asshole! I’ve already fucking _told_ you, Simon! I’ve already told every fucking body here that we don’t _do_ that shit here!” The man roars, and Carl actually flinches underneath his harsh tone, eye wide. “We _don’t_ attack people unless they do something to _deserve_ it, and we don’t attack fucking _kids for no goddamn reason!_ ”

The only other time Carl could remember seeing Negan like this was when Rosita had shot Lucille, and how incensed Negan had been by it. The fact that Negan was reacting this way to one of his own men attacking Carl has the boy feeling an inkling of appreciation for him. For the first time, he’s glad he’s not on the receiving end of Negan’s rage, because he thinks he can see a trace of his dad within the man and he tries not to think about it. The way Negan was acting right now was not dissimilar to how his dad had reacted to the man who’d attempted to rape Carl not too long ago.

Negan gestures wildly in Carl’s direction, still breathing heavily and red in the face.

“One of you _useless_ mother fuckers go get the boy some clean clothes he can use. Let him use one of the showers, and then send him up to me. I’m going to go do all of the aforementioned things I said I fucking would before I find myself out of goddamn right-hand man. As for everyone else? Get back to fucking work while Eugene here puts together a surefire plan for us to get out of this goddamn mess. I’ve had enough of you people for one fucking day, so all of you move your asses before I shove Lucille up one of ‘em!”

He turns away, leaving Carl reeling.

Before the man’s back is even turned, everyone in the hall quickly scampers. Simon gets slowly to his feet, glowers hatefully at Carl who glares right back, and then follows after Eugene and Regina. To the boy’s surprise, Dwight actually comes over to him, placing a hand at his back.

“You alright there, kid?”

Carl swallows, his hand coming back up to his throat that he can feel is beginning to bruise. “Yeah. Thanks.” His voice sounds strained to his own ears, and he’s still a little woozy from almost being strangled to death.

Dwight nods and keeps a hand at his back as if to steady him and leads the boy to a little room that Carl guesses is the stock room for apparel. He finds a decent shirt and pair of jeans for Carl to wear and leads him back out toward one of the fancier bedrooms that Carl realizes only once he’s inside probably belongs to Dwight.

“Shower’s to the right. You can leave your dirty clothes on the side, we’ll have someone come and get them and clean them up for ya. If we get outta here, I’m guessing Negan is gonna want to retaliate against your dad. If he does, he’ll bring you with him. Anything I find out about what he’s planning, you’ll be the first to know.” The man tells him. “I’ll stand guard outside the door so no one messes with you.”

Carl nods his thanks again, and Dwight manages a tight small before leaving him to his own devices.

-

Once he’s all cleaned up, the boy heads back out to Dwight who leads him silently towards Negan’s room. Carl’s only been here once before, but he feels like he’s passed these halls many times already, becoming familiar with the layout. It’s not Alexandria, but there’s a certain comfortability he feels here. But maybe that was just as a result of Negan himself, of which Carl feels ashamed for. He shouldn’t feel the least bit comfortable around Negan, shouldn’t be letting his guard down around him. Negan was the enemy, his father’s enemy, his enemy. To feel anything outside of that towards him was dangerous.

Dwight knocks on Negan’s door, and upon Negan’s command to enter, pushes it open for Carl. “Sir, I’ve brought the kid.”

Negan, who is seated in one of his arm chairs drinking a glass of scotch, smirks when he sees Carl. “Well, thank you, Dwighty-boy. You can go back to doing whatever it was you were doing now. The kid’s in safe hands.”

Carl and Dwight exchange one final glance before the man leaves him alone, shutting the door behind him. Negan downs the remainder of his glass and inclines his head at the seat opposite him. “Go on. You know the drill, kid.”

Carl does as he’s told and sits in the seat opposite Negan. The same one as last time, he realizes. He decides to cut right to the chase. “What do you plan to do once you get out of here? Are you going to retaliate against my dad?”

Negan’s smirk widens. “That’s for _me_ to know and for _you_ to find out.”

The teenager is not in the mood for his shit. Now that the initial danger from the walkers has passed, he finds himself worried for his family’s safety, the safety of everyone back home. The home that he’s not there to protect. “There are families, kids, back there! My little sister! If you even _think_ about killing anyone --!”

“Whoa, calm the fuck down, boy,” Negan sits upright in his chair now, his expression hardening. “I didn’t say a fucking thing about killing anybody, did I? You go deaf too along with being half-blind? Jesus Christ, you are uptight as shit. Even if I do decide to kill some unlucky fuckers, there’s not an honest to God damn thing you can do about it. You’re not in control here, Carl, I am. And what I say fucking goes, and not you or anyone else is going to stop me if I decide to do anything. In fact, you’re at my mercy and I will use you to get what I want if I have to.”

Carl narrows his eye. “So, what? I’m just a bargaining chip to get my dad to stand down?”

“Not just your dad, all of your people, and that includes the widow and that false ass king, too. Yeah, I know ya’ll have been conspiring with him.” He pauses, shaking a finger. “Hell, you know what? The King is gonna back off without me even having to throw you into the mix at all. I’ve already got that fucker where I want him.”

“What do you mean?” Carl demands. “What are you --?”

“I just told you, that’s none of your goddamn business. You need to be worrying about yourself and your own people right now, seeing as I’ve still got a lot of fucking punishment to dish out where you’re concerned.”

“You’re not going to hurt me.”

The words are out of Carl’s mouth before he even realizes he’s said them. They’re spoken confidently, assuredly, an attempt to regain back the power being constantly exchanged between the two of them.

Negan’s eyes soften, but his tone remains as hard as steel. “What makes you think I fucking _won’t_?”

Watching the way Negan’s adam’s apple bobbles with thinly-disguised emotion, Carl knows he’s got him. It’s an empty threat and they both know it. Negan has never once harmed him, even with all of the opportunities he’s had to do so. He’s punished him, sure, but never in a lasting way, and instead tried to protect Carl from his own people and keep him safe. That told the boy everything he needed to know. Negan had no intention of hurting him, even if it meant getting what he wanted.

He was finally getting somewhere with the man, and he wasn’t about to let go of the only trump card he had against him right now. “Because you know that I’m right. About all of it.” The teenager gestures out the door, towards the halls. “About you. About your people. They’re starting to doubt how you handle things here. They’re losing trust in you. Especially when you have no idea how to even get them out of this mess. Your problem is that you’re all talk. You gloat and act like you’re the best fucking thing in this world, but it’s all for show and all for your own ego.”

Negan’s lips curve upwards and he guffaws like he’s heard the funniest shit he’s heard in years. “Ohh, you think you’ve got me _all_ figured out, is that it? You think I won’t hurt you, and now you think I’m not capable enough of keepin’ things in line?”

Carl knows full well that he’s playing with fire here, knows that at any moment he could say something that ends up pushing Negan too far. The thought sends a tingle of excitement down his spine. “I _know_ you’re not.”

Negan slaps his thighs, laughing again, leaning forward a little in his seat with his elbows resting on his knees. The same spark that was in his eye when Carl had told him to jump out the window is back, and Carl relishes in it. “Damn. That’s quite a _big_ statement to make from such a _little_ boy, not to mention a _wrong_ one. You saw in how much fuckin’ disarray this place was just in when we showed up, right? These people are lost without me. They depend on me to keep order and keep them safe. It’s not too different from the way your daddy does things.” At Carl’s furrowed brow, he continues. “Here’s another lesson for you, kid. If you don’t keep things in order, they fall apart. Rules are one way, and another way is keeping your people faithful in your ability to keep shit in line. If we hadn’t gotten outta that camper and I’d died, no one here would’ve been able to take over my mantle. Tell me, who do you think out of that group you saw could’ve done what I’m doing right now?”

Carl seriously ponders the question, remembering the way Simon had shoved him against the wall as soon as he’d laid eyes upon him, how Regina had so easily shot one of the workers just for trying to find out what was happening. How Arat stood by as though unsure of what to do. Eugene… he was a follower, not a leader, and he was honestly not even good at being that. And then there was Dwight… Dwight, who was acting as their double agent, but Carl didn’t need Negan to know that. He didn’t know any of the other Saviors enough to make a good call. They were all like chickens with their heads cut off. There was no sense of unity here. Negan was, unfortunately, right. The man was the glue that kept it all together.

And just like that, Negan has snatched back control. The boy meets Negan’s patient gaze and flits it away again, unable to give a straight answer. Negan’s smug expression makes the teen want to punch it off of him.

“Exactly right. _No one_. Oh, don’t get me wrong, Dwighty-boy was going about it the right way, but he doesn’t have the so-called ‘stage presence’ to calm those people the fuck down. I’m not a monster, Carl, despite what you seem to think. The first and most important thing to me in this shit of a world we’re living’ in is preserving people’s lives and trying to find a way to establish some sense of community here.”

Carl fumbles with his fingers in his lap, still not meeting the man’s eyes. It was so much easier when he could steadfastly hate the man, allow himself to be consumed by his loathing towards him. It was like a constant tug of war between his emotions. He hated that he could feel any semblance of admiration towards the man who’d enslaved him and his family, had taunted his father and killed his friends, but it was becoming harder and harder to deny. He was intrigued by Negan’s ability to lead, how he commanded devotion, how he could easily keep people in line yet also provide stability for them. There was a bubble around Negan that Carl couldn’t help but want to be in proximity to.

“ _You_ , though,” Negan whistles, and Carl’s head snaps back up immediately. “You’re gonna make one hell of a leader one day. Better than your dad. Better than me. That’s why it would’ve been a tragedy had I actually killed you. I want to see what the fuck you grow up into.”

Carl swallows down the pride the words ignite in his chest. He feels almost like a puppet attached to a marionette, and Negan is playing all the right strings. He knew just the right way to appeal to the boy, and Carl realizes that he’s just as wrapped up in Negan’s perception of him as Negan appeared to be in him.

“I don’t… why?” _Why me?_ The question makes him feel vulnerable, open in a way that he hadn’t been since before the apocalypse started. He can’t understand the scope of Negan’s fascination with him, what it is that he sees when he looks at Carl. It wasn’t like he was the first person to stand up to Negan. If all it took to impress the man was bravado, that didn’t make him any different than Rosita, or Sasha, or Daryl, or anyone else who’d tried to fight against him.     

Negan leans back in his chair again, his gaze contemplative. Honest. “Why? Because you’re probably the strongest fuckin’ person I’ve ever met, and I’m not fuckin’ with you here. You killed your own mother, and you’re what? Barely above fifteen? You’re as cold as ice and yet you still give a shit about people. Maybe part of it is some weird ass nostalgia thing, wanting to teach kids again. But it’s something different with you, Carl. I just can’t bring myself to kill you, to stop liking you. You push all of my buttons, kid. You have me wrapped around your little finger. I see that fire that you try and keep contained in there. I see how much you want to spill blood. Because you _like_ killing, just like me. We’re the same. We’re both fuckin’ monsters in a fucked up world and we aim to burn it down and rebuild it like we’re its Gods.”

There it is.

The wall that Carl has so carefully kept firmly placed between them has gained an irreparable crack. He feels breathless. He understands now just why Negan has been so fixated on him this entire time. He thinks of his mother, and his father, and little Judith, and shakes his head as if to clear it.

“I’m nothing like you.” He whispers weakly.

It’s a complete and utter lie.

-

It doesn’t take Eugene too long to lure the walker herd away from the Sanctuary. There had been a commotion somewhere on the lower floor, something about a garbage truck crashing into the factory - the heapsters, Carl realizes - and it had aided in leading the herd away. It’s Laura, the savior with the black tattoo on her neck, who comes and informs Negan of the news, along with the fact that all of the ‘preparations’ were ready.

Negan turns a wicked grin upon the boy, and Carl’s heart clenches with terror. “Great, great, great!” The older male jumps excitedly to his feet, using one hand to grab Lucille from where she’d been lying against the chair beside him, and the other to yank Carl up roughly by his shirt and to his feet.

“All right, kid! Time to go pay your little shithole a fucking visit, what do you say?”

He’s lead through the halls as though in a daze. Eugene had actually done it. He’d actually come through and was going to allow Negan to attack the people who’d once considered him family. Carl passes him in the hall and gives him the most hateful look he can muster. Once he and Negan reach outside, Carl sees that most of the walkers have already been cleared out. There are several trucks all filled up with saviors and what looks like a lot of guns. Negan directs Carl to the biggest truck, the one ahead of all of the others. In the driver’s seat is the savior that Carl knows is called Gary, who pays him no attention when the boy climbs in beside him.  

Carl feels Negan shift next to him, watching as the man reaches into the backseat and grabs one of the guns, moving it close for Carl to inspect. “You see this bad boy? My guys and I have plenty of ‘em, and you wanna know what they’re for? They’re not regular guns. Oh no. No, these beauties are gonna light Alexandria up like the fucking Fourth of July and we’re gonna have ourselves a little barbecue with your people serving as the main course.”

The boy is suddenly glad that he hasn’t eaten. He can barely swallow back down the bile that rises in his throat. Or maybe it was his heart trying to force its way back up. He didn’t know. For a long time, he can’t speak. His heart is pounding rapidly in his chest, and his lower lip quivers.

“I fucking _hate_ you.”

He’s surprised by how calm his voice sounds, how easily he’s able to mask the deadly ire. The hate he feels for Negan thrums through his veins as if it were his own blood. He can feel his body shuddering with rage, and a revulsion that he’s never felt before.

Negan leans closer to him, close enough that his mouth is close to the shell of Carl’s ear and the boy shivers.  “Oh kid, I _know_ you do. But you can’t _help_ it, can you? The part of you that can’t help but respect me, to _admire_ me. You like that I don’t treat you like every other little bastard out there. I don’t treat you the way your daddy does either, or everyone else back home. And it scares the shit out of you because someone else finally understands you.”

He grips Carl’s chin painfully with a gloved hand and forces him to look at him. “Listen, and listen good. As long as Rick cooperates, I won’t have to use this shit. So your job? You’re gonna help me convince him to stand down, to give himself up. You’re gonna help me _kill_ your daddy.”

An unbidden tear slides down Carl’s cheek, and he chokes back a sob. His family, everyone that he cared about, was going to die, and all because of him.

Negan didn’t need to do anything at all. It was Carl’s finger that was on the trigger, and he’d already fired.


End file.
